Putty in His Hands
by evilsAfoot
Summary: The Lawrence High Gay-Straight-Alliance has an unhealthy interest in their history teacher's sexuality, Desperate to know what rocks his socks, they enlist in some outside assistance from a professional who knows his way around the bedroom. (Teacher!Cas/Student!Dean in which a bunch of nosy kids pay Dean to hit on Cas).


Lawrence High GSA club was caught in the throws of one it's most heated discussions. In fact, one could go as far as saying it was _the_ most heated discussion in the history of the entire organization. The seven, most devoted members, and momentarily the only ones present, were crowded in a bunch all of them glowering at each other. Anna, the self proclaimed president of the club, was sat primly at the head of the bunch with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and a deep frown seriously creasing her already severe face.

"No! No way!" She was saying, "Absolutely not!"

"Yes! Absolutely yes!" The other red head of the group, Charlie, fired back.

"Disregarding how inappropriate this discussion is, there is _no_ way you are right!"

"I think she's right."

Anna gasped, scandalized, at her supposed best friend, "Balthazar!"

"What!? Have you seen his arse? No heterosexual has an arse that firm. It's just law," the foreign exchange student said with a shrug. He didn't look at all contrite.

"That makes NO sense," Anna gaped incredulously.

"Now, now sweet cheeks, don't get your American Eagle brand panties in a twist," Meg spoke up. She was lounging lazily across two desks, watching her classmates with a vague disinterest, "I don't think he's queer either."

"Oh..." Anna blinked, caught off guard. Meg usually made it her mission to counter anything she ever suggested, "Well.. Thank you, it's nice to know at least one person agrees with me."

Meg snorted, "I never said I agreed with you."

"But you said-"

"I have my own theory."

All the teenagers in the room turned and fixed her with expecting stares. Meg graced them with a devious smile, and leaned closer into the circle, building suspense.

"I think, he's secretly a sexual animal, who's into handcuffs, and knife play, and doesn't give the slightest damn about what gender you are, as long as you can live up to his sexual escapades, and are willing to get down right filthy in the bedroom."

Everyone, except Pamela who smirked at her girlfriend with a glint in her eye, groaned in disappointment. They all should've known better to expect a legitimate answer from Meg, even though Meg full-heartedly believed in her statement.

Pamela though, was delighted, she knocked her head back and laugh throatily, "Yes, totally! Case solved, we can all go home now!" Meg quirked an eyebrow in her direction.

"No, but seriously!" Charlie veered the conversation back in it's originally misguided track, "Why are we still arguing when it's so obvious! The guy practically screams gay!"

"And how, prey tell, did you come to that conclusion," Bela snapped from where she was sitting even more rigid than Anna.

"Well, okay. Maybe he doesn't scream it exactly, but once, I was walking around after school, and Ms Harvelle was totally hitting on him, and it was like he didn't even notice her!" Charlie recounted excitedly. In her opinion Ms Harvelle was one of the hottest members of the school faculty and anyone who wasn't attracted to her had to be either blind, a heterosexual female, or a homosexual male.

"That's not proof of anything," Bela declared, "However the pictures on his desk are."

"What pictures?" Pamela asked, recovering from the eye-sex party she was having with Meg.

"Have you seriously never noticed?" Anna asked with a raised eyebrow, "He has, like, five."

"Yeah, and they're all of the same pretty little blonde girl," Bela added with an 'I told you so' pout.

"That's his sister, you dozy cow," A voice at the distant end of the circle spoke up for the first time that evening. Everyone's heads shot round to look at Crowley. He was leaning against one of the desks, brushing a hand over his freshly pressed suit, and wearing the face Lawrence High GSA coined as his scheming expression.

"Look you pathetic bunch of people. Do you want to get down to the bottom of this, or not?" he asked, examining his nails in feigned disinterest. Everyone knew that he actually loved these kinds of things, anything to get him a head up over someone was gold in Crowley's book.

"We're not pathetic!" Anna huffed. She didn't like Crowley at all, but to be fair she rarely liked anyone.

Crowley rolled his eyes, "You've just spent the last half hour arguing about your history teachers sexual orientation. You're pathetic, darling."

Anna's jaw fell open in an undignified fashion as she tried to form a response, but when she couldn't Crowley threw her a little smile, and stepped into the center of the ring, further engaging everyone's attention.

"If you really want to know the truth, you have to disregard the already given 'evidence'... and make your own," he said, and the smile on his face turned into something terrifyingly evil and malicious.

"What the hell are you getting at, Fergus," Balthazar prodded.

With one glare of distaste in the other boy's direction Crowley continued, "I'm saying we need a field worker."

"One more time hotshot," Meg asked after exchanging a befuddled grimace with Pamela.

Crowley sighed, disappointed with the idiocy of his classmates, "I'll pay someone to hit on Novak, and we'll see how he reacts."

Charlie's eyebrows creased, "Who would possible agree to do something like that?"

And just like that, the smirk was back on his lips, "Oh, I know just the man."

...

"Hya, Cas!"

Seventeen year old Dean Winchester sauntered into his history teachers classroom. The back pocket of his jeans was heavy with the wad of cash Crowley had passed onto him earlier. This was going to be a piece of cake.

The teacher, Dr Castiel Novak, had been busily grading papers before the disturbance, and therefore was completely caught off guard at the entrance of one of his least favorite students. He straitened his tie, and ruffled his papers in an extremely professional manner, after an admittedly less professional display of startled flailing that had preceded. Dean smirked. Screw cake, this was gonna be a piece of pie.

If Dean wasn't very successful in his educational endeavors, he was more than capable in between the sheets. And this history teacher, this rumpled, awkward, slip of a history teacher, was practically begging for a good fuck.

"How's it hangin', teach?" he asked, leaning against the desk in a casual fashion, but flexing his arm muscles in a reasonably more provocative way.

"Mr Winchester," Castiel coughed, clearing his throat, "What do you want?"

Dean pouted his lips playfully, "Aww, not very accommodating after school hours, are we Cas?"

"It's Dr Novak to you, Mr Winchester," Castiel said after a short pause. They hadn't been talking for more than five minutes and he already looked uncomfortable as hell, his eyes skittering around Dean nervously, and his fists clenching around the red grading pen he was holding, "I would appreciate it if you kept a certain degree of professionalism."

"So you're a doctor than, huh Cas?" Dean asked, disregarding his teacher's earlier request, and smirking.

Castiel sighed heavily, wiped a head over his brow, then looked back at Dean tiredly, "Of sorts."

Dean shifted the weight of his body to his right leg, then rocked the slightest bit further into his teachers personal space, "Then does that mean," he paused, moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, "You can give me a physical examination?"

The effect of his words were instantaneous. Blue eyes, that he'd never previously realized were blue, widening, pale cheeks coloring, responses catching in his throat, forming incomprehensible stutters. Dean fought the urge to laugh, playing a more innocent card. Like putty in his hands Doctor Castiel Novak was.

"I'm just jokin'," Dean said to the still spluttering teacher. He straightened into a slightly less invasive pose only to pull his arms into a stretch, making sure the brim of his t-shirt rode up, exposing a flash of his stomach. When he dropped his arms back down again he caught the man's eyes on his lower abdomen.

"My eyes are up here, teach," Dean leered, flashing a toothy grin. Castiel fidgeting awkwardly again, blushing even redder.

"Is there something you wanted, Dean?" he finally spoke, eyes flicking away every two seconds, despite the forced calm in his voice.

"Actually," the teenager started, moving away from the desk, and over to the door of the classroom, "There is... something."

Castiel straightened in his swivel chair, and his fingers twitched around the pen. Dean glanced over through mischievous eyes, then closed the door with a sharp click, filling the momentary silence in the room.

"Um, what is it?" he swallowed audibly. He sounded hesitant, probably was, and for good reason. Dean liked the surge of adrenaline that pulsed through him as he realized what he was about to do. He'd always been more flexible when it came to sex, but this would be the first time he broke the law with sexual activities. It felt wonderful.

Dean smirked, strolling back over to the desk, leaning over a second time, "I was wondering..."

He kept his voice low, and Castiel's eyebrows furrowed in an extremely endearing fashion.

"About my grade."

"Your... Grade," Castiel trailed.

"Yeah" Dean nodded, "The current event. I wanted to know why you gave me an F."

Castiel blinked several times, and tightened his lips, toning up the seriousness even more than before. A highly obvious cover for the dirty thoughts he clearly had been thinking. Dean could see straight through him, "Right, yes. Your grade. Of course."

"Yeah, so why did you fail me?" he kept a small smile, and his eyes permanently locked with the teacher's face. His eyes really were a startling shade of blue weren't day? Mucho sexy. And the 5 O'clock shadow that had long since started forming on his jaw made for a very lickable expanse of skin.

Unfortunately, Castiel was back in full teacher mode. He was sighing, pressing his lips together tersely, "Well honestly, Mr Winchester, I think you should feel lucky I accepted it at all."

"Hmm," Dean pretended to ponder, "Anything specific I should know about, you know, for next time."

"Typically, when witting a current event, one would expect the event to be, well, current. You chose to write about World War two, which I admit is a fastinating topic, but it ended over sixty years ago."

"Right, right," Dean nodded in understanding, sinking down onto the cluttered desk completely.

"After another pause, Castiel spoke again, "Was there anything else you needed?"

"Yes! Yeah! There is!" Dean exclaimed, letting himself smile again.

Castiel gestured for him to proceed.

"I wanted to know if you would let me bite your face!" he announced happily, without a shred of guilt, and much to the mortification of the teacher.

In a flash Castiel was moving, stumbling over his chair, and away from the scandalous proposition of his student.

...

"Ow.. Ah... HEY! OUCH!" Anna squawked loudly as someone stepped heavily onto her foot.

"Sorry," Balthazar whispered remorsefully.

"Watch where you're going next time!" she instructed harshly only to be turned on by a pair of furious glowing eyes.

"Will you bloody shit the hell up!?" Cowley hissed.

He and most of the other GSA members, excluding Bela because she refused to crawl through dirt, were crouch-waddling their way through the undergrowth of the North Wing where Dr Novak's room was located. They were two windows away from their destination and moments away from getting discovered. That is if the highly vocal club leader refused to shut her trap.

"Sorry," Anna muttered under her breath, before following the English boy onward.

"Alright now," Crowley whispered as they finally made it to the right window, "Let's see how my 200 dollars are moving along."

Without further ado, the six peaked over the edge of the windowsill, and into the classroom.

...

"Hey! Where are you going?" Dean called with a laugh, as Castiel hurdled back towards the whiteboard on the opposite side of the room. He looked like a startled deer tiptoeing away from a hunter. It was terribly endearing.

"I, ah, Mr Winchester, I think you should leave before you cause yourself any more unnecessary trouble."

Dean stepped after his teacher daringly, not the least bit deterred by his warning, "Why, are you gonna punish me?"

Castiel tripped over his feet, just barely managing to stay upright.

"Come on, Cas," Dean said with a devilish grin, "Teach me a lesson."

"Mr Winchester," Castiel warned again, his face was about as red as a tomato at this point. He stepped back with his hands out as if they were going to stop Dean from coming at him. They weren't.

"What's the matter?" Dean cooed sliding onward.

"Besides the fact that I am your teacher and this incredibly inappropriate? Where do I start?" he kind of sighs the last part. His breath was coming out in short gasps, and his tie swung captivatingly with every step away from Dean. The young boy licked his lips again, but this time subconsciously. Castiel still caught the movement.

"Come on!" Dean stepped forward, almost catching him this time.

"Mr Winchester I-"

"Don't you think I'm hot?" Dean puffed out his chest and threw his arms out in an exhibitory fashion.

"No, it's not- You're a very- I mean- No- Mr Winchester," he snapped his mouth shut, as he backed completely into the board. He was cornered, if Dean were to continue his stalk, and he certainly looked like he was going to, he wouldn't be able to run away.

On que, Dean took another step forward, there was barely two feet between them, "Then I don't see a problem."

His gaze was predatory. Head tilted down, eyes peaked, lips parted, and muscles along his body taunt and ready to spring like a rubber band. Like a panther, irrevocably, irresistible.

"Good Lord," Castiel sighed quietly, eyes flicking away for a moment. When he looked back Dean was barely a centimeter away, his hands reaching to the spaces of wall on either side of Castiel's head.

"Your call, teach," he whispered, knowing that there was barely a choice left for Castiel to make. His lips brushed dryly against the man's cheek.

Without permission, one of Castiel's shaky hands rose to rest heavily upon his shoulder. A victorious smile pulled at Dean's lips.

Without another thought Dean closed the distance between them. Their lips collided roughly and suffocatingly. Tongues and teeth scraping together, far from delicate. Hands groped blindly in every direction, Castiel's to tug at the short bristles of Dean's hair, Dean's clenching around the rumpled fabric of Castiel's shirt. They pulled at each other in ways just on the precipice of painful. Dean would've laughed if his mouth hadn't been so occupied, he'd had a feeling Castiel would like it rough.

...

"Well..." Crowley bit back a grin, "I guess that settles it."

The others stared blankly through the window, to stunned to have a proper reaction.

"Damn," Balthazar murmured in a low and wistful voice.

"He... works fast..." was all Anna could manage.

...

Meanwhile, the normally cool history classroom was burning at a thousand degrees. Castiel was leaned back, half propped by Dean, half propped by the whiteboard with his head at a tilt and a student's mouth working vigorously at the pulse points of his neck, but he tried not to think to deeply into that last detail. His teeth dug painfully into his lower lip to catch the moans threatening to tip off of his tongue.

Dean pulled at him with a persistence he'd long since grown out of. The boy's teeth skimmed the edges of his throat, while his hands skilfully prodded at his shirt buttons. A new layer of shame built with every inch of exposed skin. It would be odd thinking later, that one of his students had seen him in a state of undress. Finally, a breathy groan slipped from his lips as Dean snaked his tongue along the edge of his clavicle.

The teenager chuckled smugly to himself, but didn't let up. Instead he worked even more enthusiastically than before, licking and biting and kissing for all he was worth. One of Dean's hands brushed the line of exposed skin in between the hanging split of Castiel's shirt, his mouth followed after the hand, relishing every taste on the teacher's chest and stomach. He spared a moment to each nipple, peaking both nubs with his tongue before moving on to lower regions. Soon enough his tongue was swirling through the course trail of hairs reaching up to the base of Castiel's navel.

"Oh boy," Dean muttered as his cheek brushed the tent in Castiel's pants. Despite his guilt, the teacher had to bite back what could've been the most undignified noise in the history of sex noises.

"Hello, teacher junior!" Dean sung happily, revealing in the way Castiel's blush sunk down to his ears and chest. Then, just like that, his hands were at the belt buckle, tugging at the leather, and muttering excitedly to himself, "Let's take a peak shall we?"

Castiel rocked back as Dean unfastened his pants. He looked away trying not to think about the absurdity of the situation, but the feeling of Dean's hands holding to his hips, the gentle brush of thumbs against the curves of his protruding hipbones, were impossible to ignore. He held himself completely still as Dean popped the constrictive latches of his clothing, and shut his eyes tightly when he pulled open the band of his underwear and peered shamelessly inside.

"Hmm. Good, I guess, but I'd like a better look," Dean jeered, and with a sharp tug, he yanked both pants and boxer-breifs down to his lower thigh. Castiel's erection bobbed, snapping back from the waist of his pants as they lowered around his legs. The cool air suddenly swirling around his heated flesh was a sharp change, and he couldn't resist a sharp hiss of breath.

...

"Is he- Did he just take his pants off!?" Charlie squealed excitedly.

"Yes, and I can't bloody see because of Winchesters bloody thick head!" Balthazar whined, wiggling around where he sat in the hopes of getting a better look.

"View's pretty good from over here," Meg purred. She'd been unwillingly shoved into the very edge, and, now ironically, was the only one that could actually see everything that was going on.

"Guys! This is wrong," Anna scorned, "We shouldn't be watching this!"

"You're welcome to leave if you want, Sweet Cheeks," Pamela cat-called, and despite her indignant mutterings Anna made no move away from the window.

...

Shock passed over Dean for a moment as he stared wide eyed and eager. This was Dean's history teacher standing exposed and on display for him, and though he had kept in mind Castiel's position of power, he had forgotten that he was dealing with a man, and not another boy. Dean had seen plenty of people naked before, girls and boys alike, but this was something entirely different. There were no soft curves of childhood still filling out, and growing into them self. This was a fully fledged specimen, and though he wasn't necessarily a muscle maniac, he wasn't smooth either. He was perfect, a balanced combination of soft and hard along his entire body, collar bone, to the edge of his thighs. It was a much more interesting vantage point of the teacher. One he wouldn't be forgetting for the eternity of his school career. One that no other student would ever witness, "Not bad at all, Cas," he whispered, "Not bad at all."

Castiel blinked down at Dean, sensing the sudden change in attitude. His eyes widened at the humbled expression on Dean's face. Not being able to resist, he let one of his hands away from his side, and brushed it softly against Dean's jaw and neck.

"So what do you want me to do, Teach?" he asked simultaneously blowing a stream of hot air along Castiel's thickening cock.

It was odd how the tension in Castiel's body was building, yet he felt reasonably calmer than he had before. He stroked his hand back up Dean's head, and pet it gently at his hair.

"I want you to know," his voice was startlingly low, "That no matter what happens here today, I am not changing any of the grades you've achieved."

"Understood," Dean licked a short stripe up Castiel's leg, "Now tell me what to fucking do already."

Castiel smiled.

"Up," suddenly the hand in his hair was pulling him up, and Dean, though confused, was eager to comply. Their lips and bodies crashed together again, just as rough and clingy as the first time. When Castiel began to pull away, Dean's mouth chased after him, sucking into another kiss, not letting him go.

"The desk," Castiel finally managed though Dean's interminable kisses. It took Dean a moment to realize that the brusk rise and fall of Castiel's chest was his laughter. He was the one laughing at Dean now. What an interesting turn of events.

Together they twisted and stumbled through the classroom, marginally different from the way they had before. Castiel's hands slid around dean's sides, pushing firmly against the arches of his ribs. Dean did his best to keep up the kisses, and simultaneously avoid stepping on his teachers feet, but the task proved difficult. They only slowed for a moment when the back of Dean's legs hit the back of Castiel's desk.

"Hold still," Castiel commanded. Dean smirked at the sudden authority in his voice. He gladly conformed, not moving a muscle as his teachers fingers worked at the button of his jeans, and only shifting a little to easy the task of pulling them down. Only after they were pooled around his ankles, alined with his teacher's that had slipped the rest of the way to the floor in their transition, did they launch back into the action.

They moved in a flash. Castiel launching himself at Dean with such a ferocity they ended up falling over onto the desk, sending papers and pens flying in every direction, as they dominated the space. Dean squirmed impatiently underneath as Castiel hovered above him, thrusting his hips forward in deep torturous strokes, so that their hard cocks rubbed deliciously together with each over drawn movement.

"Ah fuck!" Dean growled as Castiel unintentionally bumped the head of his cock over the curves of his ass cheeks. A wet line of pre-come trailed down from his dick and over Dean's skin slicking the small area. Dean's fingers clenched tightly around the shirt still covering his teachers back, and pulled himself so that their chests rubbed against each other. The sweat on Castiel's open chest dripped down into the tight t-shirt still covering Dean.

Castiel thrusted again, and Dean lifted his hips to meet him this time. Both groaned at the contact this time, the velvety flesh on their cocks rubbing together sinfully. Dean let his body fall back again, and his head smacked painfully against the desk. He didn't care, it only added to the stimulus of pleasure coursing through him, "Oh, FUCK yes!"

It only took two more deep thrusts from Castiel, one more lick against the length of his dick, and another aimed lower to the tightened skin around his balls, and he was flying over the edge. Groaning shamelessly, and biting profanities into his teachers shoulder where the white dress shirt was beginning to slip down his arm. Castiel who had gone silent over the expanse of time sped up his motions and tiny, breathy grunts began to slip from his mouth as he rocked against the younger man bellow him. The nails on his right hand scraped into the laminate cover of his desk. His left hand clutched around the test paper of one of his students that he never got to grade. He would later feign an excuse as to why the paper had become crumpled in his care, but he wouldn't think about that later.

"Come on, Cas," Dean coaxed, whispering into his ear, tightening his hold around the man's back.

He thrusted up several more times into Dean, doing his best to avoid the no-doubt sensitive flesh of his cock. He listened to him murmur encouragingly in his ear, before reaching his own climax, stifling the boy's name on his lips as he pushed one last time. His come spurted up between their bodies, some of it landing on Dean, some of it landing on himself. A couple drops landed near them onto the first page of a student's essay. That particular paper happened to belong to Balthazar, and when it was turned back into him with the lame excuse of a milk spill accident, he stored it away in his folder to cherish forever.

"Man," Dean chuckled tiredly as Castiel slumped down on top of him, just as exhausted, "That was some good shit."

Castiel groaned, and nodded weakly against Dean's shoulder, "And highly unorthodox."

"Yeah," Dean laughed foolishly, "...Wanna do it again sometime?"

Castiel pulled up the slightest bit so that he could look, startled, into Dean's eyes. This was by far the stupidest thing that he'd ever done, and regret was already sinking deep into his gut, yet somehow as he stared into the hopeful green eyes of the young man sprawled out beneath him, he found himself nodding.

"Yes. I-.. I would like to this again sometime."

A hundred watt grin spread across Dean's face, "Awesome."

He felt an unnecessary and highly cliche sort of warmth spread through him, and shuddered. No matter what though, even if, as all probability suggested, this ended badly, they would make sure every second was worth the while.

...

The next day at lunch the GSA table was oddly thoughtful, making it an unusually quiet area. They did'ty even notice when Dean sauntered into the cafeteria, and strode over to their table. They all only acknowledge him when he slams a hand down into the center of the table, and unvails a slightly crumpled version of Crowley's 200 dollars.

They look at him in shock. All of them, except Bela, had witnessed his success, so what was this?

Dean smirked at their confused glances, and shrugged, "Couldn't make him talk."

Their was a pause, and most of them understood what this meant except for, of course, Anna.

"But. Wait why-"

"Alright! Good work hot stuff, at least you tried!" Pamela interrupted, and slid the bills over closer to Crowley.

Dean nodded heedlessly, and walked away from the table over to the lunch line. Totally unconcerned.

"Good luck in your future endeavors," Crowley called over his shoulder, and scooped the money back into his pocket. He smiled deviously, staying silent in respect to the collection of photos he'd managed to snap the day before when no one was looking. Now he had 200 bucks, and was almost guaranteed to pass history this year.


End file.
